Suma, that is on the sea of Suruga in the land of Hitachi, mount, O ye waves, to where the Headland of Hako with pine-woods is clad.’[1]
‘I think you have gone too far,’ said Lady Chūjō when she saw the letter. ‘I certainly hope she will not think it was I who wrote this ridiculous nonsense….’ ‘I assure you, Madam,’ replied Chūnagon, ‘there is more sense in it than you think; quite enough at any rate to satisfy the person to whom it is addressed.’ And with that she folded the note and sent it on its way. ‘How quickly these great ladies take one’s meaning!’ exclaimed Ōmi, as she scanned the reply. ‘Look, too, how subtly she expresses herself! Merely by mentioning those pine-trees she lets me know, as plain as could be, that she is waiting for me at this minute….’ There was no time to be lost. She scented herself by repeated exposure to the fumes of an incense which seemed to contain far too generous an admixture of honey, daubed her cheeks with a heavy rouge, and finally combed out her hair, which being, as I have said, unusually fine and abundant, really looked very nice when she took sufficient trouble about it.
The subsequent interview can hardly have been otherwise than extremely diverting.
- ↑ The Lady of Ōmi’s poem contained three irrelevant place-names. This one contains four, and is intentionally senseless, for Chūnagon had not been able to make out what Ōmi’s rigmarole was about.
